Running
by Titan16
Summary: "And so the boy fell, panting, to his hands and knees, in the shadows between the streetlights, listening to the approaching murderer, and waited for the peace of death to be delivered by the sharp kiss of a serrated knife."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer - No,Im (sadly) not Anthony Horowitz .**

* * *

><p>The boy ran down the damp, cobblestoned alley. The night was the blackest the boy had ever seen, with no moon and stars to be found, and almost all of the streetlights either broken or flickering. The air was freezing, going into his lungs like knives made of ice itself, and coming out as fog.<p>

He could feel the heavy bass beat and smell the alcohol from the bars and clubs, the faint neon glow of their signs giving him just enough light to see by. The murders footsteps pounded behind him, hard and steady. His breath was rough, as if one of the serrated blades he held was scraping burnt toast.

The boy passed one of the many debilitated streetlights, and suddenly felt a complete, controlling, soul-deep urge to collapse, to allow his pursuer to catch up with him, to finally sleep forever. And so the boy fell, panting, to his hands and knees, in the shadows between the streetlights, listening to the approaching murderer, and waited for the peace of death to be delivered by the sharp kiss of a serrated knife.

Suddenly, he felt the murderer's hand, rough and calloused from handling the blades, on his bare calf. Silently he screamed at himself to do _something_,_ anything _for the dead, for the killed, for his guardian, no, his _sister__**. **_Almost of its own accord, his free foot snapped out and hit the man, wait, that wasn't right, the monster in the forehead. The things head snapped back and met the concrete with a sickening crunch.

The boy bent down and retrieved the knives. The blades, shining in the glow of some far off street light, with spots of blood that could've been ink or paint, but wasn't, all they did was take him back, to the damp, musty basement, chained to the wall, hardly able to scream, let alone help, watching as the filth on the ground sunk these blades into his best friend, his almost-girlfriend, and his guardian, relishing their death screams. He took a slow step forward, gripping the knives, preparing himself… but threw them to the ground, knowing that they wouldn't want him to become anything like this man, this killer. Alex Rider turned, and headed for the Royal and General Bank, disappearing into the night.

_Five days earlier_

It was ten minutes until the end of school, and Alex was counting every second. The stares, the whispers, it was simply hard to stand after Ash and his parents. He had the feeling that something was wrong, but surely-

**Ring!**

_Finally_ he thought with relief as the usual rushed flurry to leave started and he prepared himself to go into the seething mass of teenagers. As he made his way to his bike, he saw a head of spiky hair. Tom, his best friend, was coming up to say goodbye for the "weekend". Really, they didn't have to do this, as Tom came over whenever Alex was there to escape the screaming at his house, but they never knew if there would be a mission or not, so they always said their farewells after school.

"Hey Alex!" called Tom, "see you next weekend?"

"I don't know Tom" Alex responded, raising an eyebrow "will I?"

"How should I know? Anyway, try not to die, that would be hard to explain James."

Alex heaved a sigh "Okay, mom, I'll do my best"

So Alex found himself biking to Chelsea alone, as usual, and could still feel something was off, but, honestly, how paranoid did that sound? He got so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the black SUV in the neighbor's yard. This wouldn't be unusual, if the neighbors weren't in America visiting relatives.

He heard the car doors open and close. His head came up and he frowned._ Wait..._

As he went to turn around, he sensed someone behind him, right before he felt a sharp sting in his neck.

He leapt off of his bike and went to assume a fighting position, but he felt himself weakening. He was soon on the ground, and darkness was covering him like a blanket. Everything was fading...

The last thing he saw was a silver scorpion.

* * *

><p><strong>Please review! Constructive flames are accepted. Should I continue with this fic?<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer - I do not own Alex Rider.**

* * *

><p>Alex's eyes flicked open, and pulling himself up to his elbows with a groan, he quickly scanned his surroundings.<p>

It looked like he was in a basement, except for the small detail of him being in a cage. The cage itself was obviously well thought through, made of chain link fence instead of bars he could slip through, and having an electronic lock that could only be opened. through the code whoever assigned it. There was nothing in the cage but an old, rundown toilet.

Alex blinked, noticing that everything was rather fuzzy, and he couldn't focus. Probably from whatever drug they gave him.

He leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to focus on what had happened. He was riding home from school (he'd had a bad feeling all day, a feeling that he'd _ignored_), and he was jumped, but by one or more people? He dimly recalled seeing something important, something big, right before he'd passed out. Everything was so fuzzy….silver, he recalled silver and an animal….his eyes flew open and he gasped ,pressing himself against the wall, as if it could protect him. Scorpia! He was captured by Scorpia (again, captured again, how much more could he possibly _take_).

He quickly calmed himself. This was bad. He was probably going to be killed (no, _executed_) soon. But then again, why capture him when they could've just had him shot again? Maybe the agreement with MI6? Nothing was making sense….Alex was broken from his thoughts by a loud screech of a door being unwillingly opened.

The man that came down the steps was lean in a way that suggested strength, and was surprisingly young, probably in his early 20's, and had bright, piercing blue eyes with messy red hair that flopped into his eyes. He sauntered forward and smirked.

"Wow, the great Alex Rider, pride and joy of MI6, in my basement! _What_ an absolute _joy_." The last word was said with as much venom as possible. Alex didn't react or speak, simply stared, absorbing information he could use to escape. The man grinned. "Oh, excuse me, Mr. Rider, I'm Matt."

Alex finally had to ask. "What's with Scorpia capturing me and only you and this crummy cell greeting me? I mean, this isn't _nearly_ as nice as the organ harvester's camp. And you seem a little _too_ off you rocker to work for them." The last statement was all to true. Every Scorpia agent was always calm, collected. Matt radiated a savage madness, like a rabid dog stuck on a chain.

Matt raised an eyebrow and said in the same degrading tone Alex had just used, "Well, no, I don't work for Scorpia, but to get around that _pesky_ little contract they have with MI6, we decided on them capturing you, and me torturing you."

This was all said with a smile, and Alex shivered. It honestly surprised him Scorpia hadn't put this man down yet, let alone hold Alex as his captive. Matt turned and left, turning off the lights as he did so. Alex heard an insane laugh, just before the door closed, and then the darkness covered him. All he knew was that MI6 probably didn't know he was gone, let alone where he was, and anyway, even if they did, they wouldn't help him. Little did he know, MI6 had every available agent searching for him. And Jack.

* * *

><p><strong>I would love to thank all the reviewers! Especially <em>hollyblue2<em>, who helped me notice many errors in my first/second chapter, which I appreciate HUGELY!**

**Anyway, I apologize for any grammer errors,please correct me. Also, I AM american (texan,to be specific)and sorry for any non-brittish terms used. Again,feel free to correct me.I also have a poll on what I write next.I plan on doing all of these, just vote on the one you want done of these are well pretty well known, exept for the Six of hearts series,and an author called kyntak has a GREAT story for it if your curious.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:I do not own Alex Rider.**

* * *

><p>Alex had no idea how long he'd been locked up for. It could've been five hours or five days before he finally heard Matt coming, if that was even his real name.<p>

The man was holding what were possibly the most disturbing items Alex had ever seen. They shone dimly in the light, and Alex felt physically sick. They were two knives, about two feet long, and were serrated on one side and a smooth blade, like a sword, on the other. He also held chains that looked half put together, chunks of metal, a ruler, and a miniature welder. The man smoothly knelt at the wall and welded the end of the chains to the edge of the cage, and left the ends open. When Matt turned, Alex studied them. They were made of filthy grey metal, possibly iron, and were now a part of his cage. The ends looked similar to hand cuffs, but were about three or four inches in width. They hooked together and were locked by a key hanging around Matt's throat. Alex snorted. _If he thinks that'll hold me, he's in for a surprise..._

Alex's attention was diverted as Matt welded the spare metal to the opposite wall. They came together and looked to be arranged to hold a person's arms, legs, and neck, spread out as far as possible. These were also lockable. Alex was now extremely worried. Matt was measuring with his ruler for someone, and they weren't much bigger than Alex, but big enough for him to know the arrangement wasn't for him. Matt smiled and walked up to Alex, unknowingly assuming a soldiers posture. His eyes held Alex's silently as he pulled out a gun. Alex couldn't tell what kind, but knew it would be loaded and would be used, if deemed necessary.

"Come, Mr. Rider, a man could think I'd been torturing you already!" He held the gun to Alex's temple and opened the door. "Out you go, Mr. Rider, and mind your manners like a good boy." Matt said, all sugar and honey laced with hemlock.

All of Alex's willpower went into not flipping the man off. The only sign of this was his lips being pressed together tightly. He walked calmly out and allowed the chains to be put on his wrists. They were tight, but not unbearably so, and he fully expected to be able to pick the lock. What he didn't expect Matt to stick the welding torch in the space where the key would be inserted and turn it on. The pain was excruciating as the manacles were sealed, the heat from the welding torch went straight through to his wrists and he could feel the burning pain in them.

Alex slumped, almost blacking out, when Matt stopped. "Now that you're secure, Mr. Rider, let me tell you about myself."

"Oh great," Alex said scathingly, "another bragging, arrogant idiot trying to hit all the clichés." Matt casually backhanded him. His expression didn't even flicker from his pleasant smile.

"When I was your age," He began slowly, as if talking to a young child. "Scorpia captured me, and I was tortured by Dr. Three for two years for information on my father I didn't have. After that, it was join or die, and you can guess what I chose. I steadily gained trust, and was chosen to be my former torturer's apprentice. I will enjoy our time together, since this is my first solo mission without my mentor." He spun on his heel and strode out, not even bothering to close the door.

Alex tugged experimentally at his chains, which were now back to their normal colour from their glowing orange, and held back a sob as the sensitive skin on his wrist broke open, showing red in the middle of black. A small scuffle could be heard and he looked up to see who it was.

Matt was back, and he held an unconscious woman with a black hood over her head. Matt secured her to the wall the same way he'd secured Alex to the chains, and so she was held spread eagle, held by the thick manacles welded to the wall, and was slumped over. Matt removed her hood.

It was Jack.

Alex's heart felt like it had stopped beating. The terror paralyzed him to the spot. He wasn't even breathing._ Jack oh god, no no no!_ Matt saw his reaction and grinned. He slowly put his hand in his pocket and withdrew a syringe, the clear content of which he injected into Jack's jugular vein. She opened her eyes slowly; she was overwhelmed with her surroundings as she saw Alex on the opposite wall. Alex was still, too still. He also looked a step away from collapsing and was chained to a wall with burns on his wrists. She was restrained on the wall with agonizing pain on her wrists, throat, and ankles. A man stood by her, holding the now empty syringe. _He's very handsome_, she thought through the haze of drugs,_ but there's something off about him…_ out of his pocket he pulled out a flick knife; Jack went cold. He sliced off her shirt, making sure to draw blood as he did so. He grinned like a schoolboy.

"Let's get started shall we?" he asked.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you to all of my reviewers, and <em>hollyblue2<em>, my new beta reader! Anyway, I hope you liked the chapter!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer- I own nothing!**

* * *

><p><em><span>Four days later<span>_

Jack was dead. Matt had tortured and raped her, whipping and cutting and hurting her, right in front of Alex, for four days, and now she was dead. There had been distant screams when Matt was gone, telling Alex that they weren't alone in their torture. Now he was nothing but a limp mound on the floor, thin and sick.

Jack was hanging limply from the wall, still warm, bleeding from the almost _pretty_ pattern of cuts covering her skin, her body bruised and burned beyond recognition. Had Alex been in a normal situation, he would have remembered the medical lecture in Brecon Beacons on gangrene. He would've noticed the foul smell and discoloration around his terribly burned wrists and recalled the emphasis on a type called gas gangrene* and how it was one of the most deadly infections out there. Because of this and Jack's sudden death, he would've realized he was going into shock. But all his half-delirious mind could handle thinking was one word.

_Escape. _

Matt swept in, with all the false bravado he always had, and curled his lip in disgust. "Well, Rider, now you're just pitiful. Broken so soon?"

Silently surveying the room, he noticed Jack's still form, sighed, and murmured, "That explains it." He left and returned a few seconds later with the miniature welder. Ironically, the thing that had trapped her in life now freed her in death; Matt using it to melt the metal around Jack's wrists, ankles, and throat, her still bleeding body getting dragged away. Alex raised his head and saw the welder, lying on the filthy, blood-soaked floor.

_Escape. _

He crawled up to the length of his chains but was still several feet short for his foggy half-plan. Stretching out his feet, silently screaming in absolute agony, his vision going white, somehow gripping the welder with his toes, he dragged it to his numb, dead hands. He hauled himself back and fumbled with the welder. It lit - the flame a beautiful combination of bright blue, blood red, and snow white - and Alex steeled himself. He stuck the flame to the metal around his burned, infected wrists, turning it bright white, melting it, and freeing himself. By now, he was only half-conscious at best.

_Escape._

He dragged his body to a stance only scarcely resembling standing and hauled himself up the stairs, collapsing several times on the way. After what seemed like hours, he finally staggered into a dull, lifeless hallway and could smell the rot and death drifting from one of the rooms, the door being partially open. He swallowed, hard. _There might be survivors…._ he opened the door fully.

And fell to his knees.

Tom and Sabina hung from the ceiling, suspended from coarse ropes looped around their throats, tongues lolling from their mouths, necks bruised eggplant purple, covered in cuts identical to those that Matt had inflicted on Jack. Alex would've been violently sick, had he held anything in his stomach but the filthy water Matt had cheerfully forced down his throat.

_Escape. _

He heard heavy footsteps echoing in the distance; and a small voice, some hidden instinct, told him to run, to flee for his life. Pulling himself up, he staggered onto the lawn and sprinted for his life down the dark, damp alley.

* * *

><p><strong>*This cracked me up. When I researched gangrene for the symtoms, I saw the diffrent types. As a COMPLETE COINCEDENCE, I had put the perfect circumstances for gas gangrene to form (the tight chains, the cracked burns, ect.). This is known as the most deadly form of gangrene, and even a small cut infected with it is a medical emergency, since it spreads and sends its victims into shock so fast. <strong>

**Thank you to all of reveiwers! Now, I have three points to cover.**

**1) Im going on a ten day trip to disneyland for the first time EVER, and cant get on a computer for that time, so no updates.**

**2) Should I continue this fic? I originally meant for this to be a one shot, with only Alex running from Matt. Now Ive kinda looped back to that, so do you want me to continue with it?**

**3) Should I raise the rating because of the blood and gore?**

**Thanks to _hollyblue2_, my amazing beta reader!**


End file.
